Breaking and Entering: A Dean Winchester Story
by curlybean
Summary: When Dean was ten-years-old, he snuck into a family's home to watch Gunner Lawless wrestle in the Tower of Power on Pay Per View. This is the story of how that came about and how he got caught for his first Breaking and Entering charge.
1. Chapter 1

Breaking and Entering

Chapter 1

* * *

To ten-year-old Dean Winchester, wrestling was the greatest thing ever. Better than football or baseball. Better than shooting guns and throwing knives. Better than summer vacations and winter breaks and snow days. Better than hunting, even.

It all started one day in gym class. He'd only been in that particular school for a week and hadn't had much luck making new friends or in making himself anything more than the new kid who wore clothes that were too big for him and shoes that were too small. He was lucky that the school provided gym clothes for its students, because at least in gym class he fit in with the other kids. Not that he really cared that much about fitting in.

The first few days of class, they'd been finishing up a segment of square dancing, and Dean was glad he'd missed out on most of that. He had to participate on the last day, but the teacher didn't really expect much from him, fortunately.

The next day, Mr. Levin announced that they would be dividing the class up by gender, the boys starting a wrestling segment, while the girls played badminton. Dean listened as the man explained the rules of wrestling and then asked for two volunteers to demonstrate some moves. Dean made sure to stay in the back, having learned at an early age that volunteering for something usually only got you into trouble.

The next two days, the boys in the class practiced their moves on their own. Mr. Levin roamed around the room, giving out instruction and advice to the students, while also trying to keep them interested in what they were doing. Dean had no problem at all staying interested. To him, wrestling was almost as natural as breathing, and other than being told several times to rein in his aggression, he was having a great time.

Friday afternoon, Mr. Levin informed them that they would be wrestling against each other, starting on Monday. Dean went home that afternoon, eager to practice more and try out some of his moves on his dad and brother.

Unfortunately, Sam had fallen asleep as soon as they got home and John didn't seem too interested. "We don't have time for that, Dean. I'm leaving in the morning and I need to pack. I also need your help with something."

"But Mr. Levin said we should practice this weekend, Dad. He said he wanted us to be ready on Monday."

John, who was sitting at the small table and aggressively sharpening a rather large knife, acted as if he didn't even hear his son. Instead, he motioned over to a duffel bag on the couch in the living room. "I need you to sort through that bag and separate the regular bullets from the silver and consecrated iron rounds. I need to know how many of each I have. And don't wake your brother up, either." When Dean didn't move, John sat the knife down on the table and barked a "Now, Dean!"

Dean jumped slightly at the harsh tone and then quickly made his way over to the couch. He didn't waste any time in doing what he was told and when he was done, he made his way over to his dad and gave him a report on what he'd found. Once he was done, he sat and watched his dad finish up the knife sharpening. The second the man was done, Dean asked again if they could practice some wrestling moves. And once again, he was shot down.

"Don't you have homework to do?"

Dean wanted to say no, but he'd gotten in enough trouble just the week before for lying about his homework and he definitely didn't want to go down that road again. Instead, he resolved himself to getting his homework done and keeping himself out of trouble.

* * *

John left early Saturday morning and didn't return until Sunday morning. Sam and Dean spent Saturday morning doing some chores around the small house they were staying in and then spent Saturday afternoon and evening watching television. Dean wanted to try out some of his moves on Sam, but quickly realized that Sam was too small for it to be of any help to him. If Dean was going to hold his own against boys that were bigger than him, he needed to practice with someone who weighed more than thirty-five pounds.

John's return on Sunday morning was a somewhat somber affair. Dean didn't know the specific reason for his dad's mood and he definitely wasn't going to ask him. All he really needed to know was that the man was relatively unharmed and that the hunt had been a success, overall. And that it was better to leave the man alone when he was in such a mood.

By Sunday afternoon, John was in a better mood. He'd taken a long, hot shower and then slept for several hours, so when he finally climbed out of bed, he was feeling better. Sam attached himself to the man's side, telling him everything they'd done the day before. Dean spent the time making lunch for the three of them and then spent more time cleaning up, trying to get on his dad's good side.

Once lunch was over, John led them outside for some training. Dean loved to train with his father and tried his best to do what was expected of him. After an hour of target practice for Dean, John instructed the boys to get into position for some sparring. Sparring with Sam wasn't easy, because Dean had to make sure that none of his jabs actually landed. John expected them to practice their leg work and positioning more than anything. Dean didn't think it was fair that it was okay for Sam to land some punches, though.

After almost twenty minutes of trying to get Sam to stop resting his weight on his rear foot, Dean decided he was done. When John looked back down at a newspaper he held in his hand, Dean moved in and performed one of the moves he'd learned in class. Leaning down, he picked up one of Sam's legs and then moved his body in closer, effectively forcing Sam to the ground. It wasn't much different from what John had taught them, but by pulling Sam's leg in one direction while using his torso to press Sam's body in the other direction, Dean easily took his brother down.

Unfortunately, Sam went down hard.

"What the hell are you doing, Dean?!" John stared at his son as if he'd lost his mind. Dean quickly helped a somewhat annoyed Sam back to his feet.

"Sorry," he answered, his head lowered to the ground and his hand still holding onto his brother.

"You could have hurt him. What were you thinking?"

Dean knew that he didn't take Sam down hard enough to really hurt him, but he wasn't about to argue his point with his dad. "I-I was just practicing one of the wrestling moves we learned in class, Dad. Mr. Levin wants us to practice so we can start actually wrestling tomorrow. He said I'm a natural."

John's brow furrowed at Dean's words, obviously annoyed with the situation. "Well, if that move is any indication of an actual wrestling move, I think you're wasting your time. It was clumsy and awkward."

Dean's eyes immediately lowered to the ground and the smile on his face quickly disappeared. "I guess I need to practice more," he mumbled.

"Quit mumbling, Dean. If you have something to say, be a man, look the person you're talking to in the eye and speak clearly."

Dean looked at Sam and then up at his dad. "I just said I need to practice more, Dad."

"I think there are more important things you could be spending your time on." With that, John stood up and headed towards the front door. Police the area, Dean. Make sure you pick up all the spent shells. Sammy, get inside. It's time for your bath."

Sam looked over at his brother. "Dean always helps me with my bath."

"Well, today I'm helping you. Let's go."

Sam looked over at Dean again, but before John could say anything, Dean gave his brother a short nod. Sam turned and headed towards the house.

"You have fifteen minutes, Dean, and then I want you in the house. Understand?"

"Yes, sir." Once Sam and John were in the house, Dean turned and started to police the area. He paid particularly close attention to what he was doing, because the last thing he needed was for his dad to think he was being insubordinate.

* * *

Monday had been the best day so far of Dean's life. He was surprised to see that he actually passed a surprise History test and that he'd gotten a decent grade on the short story he had to write. He also spent most of his lunch recess talking to a girl named Beth who giggled at his jokes and shared her gummi bears with him. He liked that she didn't even mind it that he kept most of his attention on Sammy, who was playing on the monkey bars.

The best part of the day, though, was gym class. Just as Mr. Levin said, they spent the whole class in mini wrestling matches. Mr. Levin had them all line up by height and paired them off in appropriate partners. Dean was matched up with a kid named Brian, who was a little taller and a lot heavier than him. He didn't care, though.

From the moment they stepped up onto the wrestling mat, waiting for Mr. Levin to blow the whistle, Dean was ready. He couldn't help but feel that he was born to wrestle, despite whatever his dad said. He could feel it in his bones….. _wrestling was his thing._

And he must have been right, because within a minute of the whistle blowing, Dean had pinned Brian. And then Eric. And then Scott. By the time he made it to the biggest guy in the class, Big Red, Dean was exhausted and Mr. Levin was following him around with a goofy grin. Big Red was a little harder to pin because of the weight difference, but eventually Dean's quickness and wiriness won the match for him. Big Red wasn't exactly happy to lose to someone so much smaller than him, but he was so out of breath from trying to get the best of Dean that he didn't retaliate.

Mr. Levin dismissed the class, but asked Dean to stay back. Dean wondered what his teacher wanted and if he'd done anything wrong, but the second the last person was in the locker room, his questions were answered.

Mr. Levin laughed at the look on Dean's face. "Relax, Dean. You're not in any trouble. I just wanted to say that was some good work there, son. You've never wrestled before?"

"No, sir. I've never gone to a school where they had a wrestling team, so this is my first time."

"Well, like I said before…..you're a natural, Dean. I've never seen someone your age so in tune with their body."

"I uh…. I do some training with my dad sometimes," he finally answered.

"Really? What kind of training?" Mr. Levin seemed unnaturally interested in what kind of training Dean took part in.

Dean knew that he was entering a tricky area and he had to be careful. "Um, Dad used to be a boxer and he likes to spar. He's been teaching me to spar since I was five."

"Oh, okay then. Well, Dean…. you're a natural and I'd love to have you join my team. We're not affiliated with the school, actually. Just so you know. Would you be interested in joining my team?"

"Really? You want me to join a wrestling team?" Dean couldn't believe what he was hearing. Their life didn't usually allow them to join school teams or clubs or afternoon programs. And Dean wasn't under any illusions that his dad would allow it this time, either. Regardless, it felt good to be recognized.

"We practice after school during the week and our meets are usually on the weekend. There's not a lot of traveling involved, really, but every so often we do have to go away for one. What do you say, Dean? Wanna be a Wilsonville Wrangler?"

Dean's eyes were glowing with the possibilities of joining the team. He very rarely did something for himself- always putting Sammy and his dad first- but he wished that just once he could be selfish. "I don't think I can, Mr. Levin."

"Why not?"

"I just can't." Dean turned and headed for the locker room, anxious to get away from the man.

The rest of the week wasn't much different. Every single gym class, Mr. Levin watched in awe as Dean wrestled and then ran out of the gym as soon as possible so as to avoid his teacher. By the end of the week, the man was getting desperate. In fact, he was desperate enough to follow Dean into the locker room.

"Winchester! A word please."

Dean finished pulling his shirt on and then turned to face the man. He was surprised when the teacher handed him a rather large envelope. "This is for your father, Dean. Please give it to him to read this weekend. I'll be expecting an answer from him on Monday. All the information for the Wilsonville Wranglers is in there."

Dean took the envelope, figuring he could salt and burn it when his dad left for the hunt Saturday morning. The man didn't need to know about the Wilsonville Wranglers. He didn't need to know just how much Dean wished he could be one of them. And he didn't need to know just how much Dean wished his dad could see what a natural he was at wrestling.

* * *

Author's note: This little short story came about after hearing Dean referencing the time he broke into someone's house to steal a family's Pay Per View to watch Gunner Lawless in the Tower of Power match. I can just imagine how that all went down and I really wanted to share it with you all. Poor little Dean, lol.

Anyway, I was going to try to do this in one chapter, but as usual, things didn't work out that way. I really hope you're enjoying Dean's first foray into criminal behavior (at least, as far as the police know.) I'll hopefully have the rest of this up in the next week. Thank you all so much for reading and (hopefully) reviewing.


	2. Chapter 2

Breaking and Entering: A Dean Winchester Story

Chapter 2

* * *

Friday night was always Dean's favorite night of the week. Not only was he out of school for two glorious days, but usually their dad was either on a hunt or getting ready for a hunt. That meant that Sam and Dean had the television all to themselves and their dad was too busy to complain about what they were watching.

And Dean's new obsession with wrestling meant that he always wanted to watch WWF wrestling. Sam's favorite wrestler was Randy Savage and while Dean liked him, too, his favorite was Ultimate Warrior. _Ultimate Warrior was awesome._

After wrestling all weekend in his gym class, Dean was even more excited to watch a match that evening. To his dismay, John- who had decided to stay home for the weekend in order to do some research- informed them that they were going to be doing some extra training that night. Dean usually enjoyed training with his dad, but he hated the man's timing.

Of course, John wasn't too happy with the groaning and moaning he was met with when he told the boys about the training, especially when it came from Dean. He was used to his oldest doing what he was told without any backtalk. "It's not up for discussion, Dean. You boys are due for some extra training and if I hear anything more out of your mouth, I'll make sure to tack some more on for you."

Dean knew better than to push his luck, so instead he just went about the training as fast as he could. Which, of course, didn't work out well for him, either. By the time they were done with the physical fitness part of training, Dean and Sam were at each other's throat- Dean, because he thought that Sam was being a slow-poke, and Sam, because he thought that Dean was being a big, fat, meanie-head. John's face was growing redder by the second and just about the time Sam looked like he was going to burst into tears, he had had enough.

"That's it! Both of you get your butts inside, right now. And find yourself a corner."

Dean hated being sent to the corner like a five-year-old. He hated it more than anything, mostly because he found it overly difficult to keep himself still for any period of time. And when you were sent to the corner by John Winchester, you were expected to stand straight and tall with your nose touching the wall in front of you. And you stood there until you were called out. It could be ten minutes or it could be an hour, depending on what kind of mood John was in.

Both boys trudged into the motel room, each giving each other pathetic looks before seeking out the closest available corner. When they both tried to claim the same corner, which ended with a scuffling match, John stepped in and grabbed Dean by the back of his shirt. "Samuel, in that corner now!" he yelled, pointing to the corner they were fighting over. "Dean, pull that table away from the wall and get your nose in that corner!"

Dean knew better than to argue with his dad, so he did what he was told. He knew they were just one mistake away from getting their backsides tanned and he didn't want any part of that. And he definitely didn't want that for Sam. So, without further ado, he stuck his nose in the corner and waited as patiently as he could for his dad to call him out.

* * *

It seemed like hours before John finally called them out of the corner. In actuality, it had probably only been fifteen minutes, not that you would think that by looking at either Sam's or Dean's face. They both looked immensely bored and annoyed, but luckily both boys valued the current state of their backsides and kept their mouths shut.

John motioned them both over to sit on the small chair in front of the television and they both squeezed in. Sam ended up partially on Dean's lap, but he didn't care. He could feel his little brother's shoulders trembling slightly, so he pulled him in even closer.

"I don't know what's gotten into the two of you, but I'm warning you right now that it's gonna stop or else. And I'm pretty sure you already know what the 'or else' means, right?"

"Yes, sir," Dean answered immediately, followed by Sam's much quieter "Yes, Daddy."

"Okay, then…. I'm only going to say this once….. I want you both to grab a rope out of the back of the Impala and practice your rope tying. I need to see both of you master at least one knot tonight. Dean, do you remember how to do the square knot?"

"Yes, sir."

"Okay, I want you to show Sammy how to do it and then I want you practicing the Figure Eight. Once you're finished with those, the rest of the evening is yours."

Dean didn't waste any time.

* * *

The knot tying went about as good as could be expected. It didn't take Sam long to figure out the square knot and by the time they were done, he could tie one almost as fast as Dean could. Dean didn't have any trouble learning the Figure Eight, either.

Once they were done, Dean quickly made them something to eat and then settled in front of the television. John didn't usually let them eat in front of the TV, but the small table was full of his books and his journal. Dean didn't mind eating in the chair, even though it was a pretty tight fit for the two of them. Eventually, he slid down to the floor, letting Sam have the chair to himself.

They were halfway through the first match between Rick Rude and a wrestler known as The Barbarian when it happened. John, who was taking a break from his research, had just come in from getting something out of the Impala. He stepped over to his bed and promptly tripped over Dean's backpack that had somehow slid off the bed. After a few seconds of cursing, in which both Sam and Dean tried not to laugh, John reached down and picked up the bag. As he did, he noticed the envelope that had been addressed to him by Mr. Levin.

"What is this, Dean?" he asked as he waved the envelope in front of him. "Did you get in trouble at school?"

Dean looked up and noticed the envelope, his face dropping when he remembered what was in it.

"Dean? I asked you a question. Did you get into some kind of trouble?" John started opening the envelope, obviously not in the mood to wait for his son to explain himself.

"No, sir. It's, um…. it's from my gym teacher, Mr. Levin." Dean watched as his dad read the letter, noticing how the man's face darkened with each passing word.

"What is this? You told him you wanted to join his wrestling team? Is that what this is?"

"No…. I mean….yeah….. Well, he asked me if I wanted to join, Dad, but I told him that I couldn't."

"And yet he still sent this letter home? Why?"

"I don't know." Dean shrugged his shoulders as he tried to figure out why it seemed like his dad was so mad about the idea. "He, um….. he said I was a really good wrestler and he wants me on his team. He said it was only on the weekends, Dad, and that it didn't cost a lot of money."

John threw the letter down on the bed. "We don't have time for this, Dean, and you know it. It's just a waste of time."

"But, Dad… you're always training me in self-defense, right? Isn't this sort of like self-defense? I mean… in class I've been learning how to put someone in a chokehold and also how to get out of one. Wouldn't that be important to know for hunting?"

"I don't need some middle-age elementary school teacher teaching my son how to defend himself. I need to make sure you're trained right, Dean. And it may not cost a lot of money, but it costs something, I'm sure. We don't have enough for anything extra."

Dean felt his eyes burning with unshed tears. He wished that just for once his dad might think about what he wanted. He knew that wasn't ever going to happen, though. Being a Winchester meant that you rarely got what you wanted. _Unless you were the youngest Winchester._ Dean wasn't dumb to the fact that Sam definitely got more of what he wanted than Dean did. Of course, that was mostly because Dean himself made sure that that happened every once in a while.

Dean watched as John took the letter from Mr. Levin and tore it in half. Without another word on the subject, the letter and envelope were thrown into the trash can. Dean kept his eyes on it for several seconds before he turned his attention back to the television. His favorite wrestler was wrestling, but he really didn't feel like watching anymore.

* * *

The next few weeks were miserable for Dean. And for Sam, by proxy. Mr. Levin continued to ask him almost daily about whether or not he'd talked to his father about the wrestling team. He even offered to talk to John on the phone, but Dean quickly put a stop to that line of reasoning. There was no way he'd subject the poor man to dealing with John Winchester on that particular topic.

By the time they'd left that little town, Dean was more than ready to leave.

The next town they came to was an even smaller town and Dean was pretty sure that there was no way the small school had a wrestling team. He was right. In fact, the school was so small that there were only fifty students in total.

Sam loved his small class and he talked non-stop about his teacher the minute he got home. Dean's teacher wasn't nearly as awesome as Sam's, but he had to admit that she was nicer than most of the ones he'd had in his life, even if she did like to ruffle hair and pinch cheeks. Dean figured it was kind of like having a loving, but strict grandmother eight hours a day, five days a week.

Settling into a new place was usually pretty easy for the boys. Unfortunately, John decided to settle them into a small house instead of a motel. Normally, this would make both boys happy, because it usually meant that they had a yard to play in and didn't have to be quite so mindful of the noise they made. But it also usually meant that they didn't have cable television.

Before his new wrestling addiction, Dean wouldn't really have minded the no cable thing. He liked watching television, but he was also somehow able to find other things to occupy himself with. Not having a TV only meant that the evening hours were a little more boring than usual. And now it meant that he couldn't watch his WWF wrestling.

He made sure that his dad knew he wasn't happy with the current situation, but then he shut his mouth, before he got into trouble.

* * *

They had been in the small town for almost two months, most of which John was gone on a hunt. He would come back every few days, stay the night, replenish the groceries, and then leave again, always making sure that Sam and Dean knew the rules they were supposed to follow. Sometimes, Sam thought he might lose it if he heard his dad tell him to mind his brother again. For Dean, it was always the "Watch out for Sammy" statement the man made just before closing the door behind him_. If he'd heard that statement once, he'd heard it at least a thousand times. _

The most recent hunt had John gone for almost a full week and a half, the longest he'd ever been goen for. By the time he came back, they were down to their last bit of milk and juice and had completely run out of sandwich meat. Dean didn't mind, but Sam was tired of having to drink water. And they were both getting tired of spaghettios.

Dean was just happy to see that his dad wasn't hurt. He was always eager to hear the details of whatever hunt the man had been on, but only if he knew that it was a successful one. He'd learned pretty early on to steer clear of questions if John came home in a bad mood.

This time, when John walked through the door, he had a huge smile on his face. Sam and Dean had just sat down to yet another bowl of spaghettios, both already bathed and in their pajamas. Sam jumped up and ran over to their dad, throwing himself into the man's side.

"Hey, Sammy. Hey, Dean." John picked Sam up and held him on his hip as he turned to look at his eldest. "Everything okay while I was gone?"

"Yes, sir," Dean promptly answered.

"You sure? No trouble at school or anything?"

Dean started to roll his eyes, but quickly stopped himself. "No, sir. School's been okay. Hey, Sammy…. Show Dad your award." Dean tried to get the attention off of himself before his dad started digging any deeper into the school thing. He hadn't gotten into trouble, really, but he did fail a pretty important test and really didn't want the man to find out.

Sam scrambled down off of John's hip and ran over to the refrigerator. He grabbed a piece of paper that had been held up by a lone magnet and ran back over to John. "See, Daddy? I was Star Student last week. Miss Goldberg said that I, um…. I showed….. What was it she said, Dean?"

Dean and John both laughed at the scrunched up look on Sam's face as he tried to remember what his teacher had said. "She said you showed patience, kindness, and compassion, Sammy."

"Yeah! Patience, kindness, and compassion! We had a classroom party and everything, Dad. Dean's teacher let him come to it because I told Miss Goldberg that you couldn't come."

"Good job, Sammy. Way to go!" John couldn't help but feel sad to know that his boy had received an award and he wasn't there to see it. He was glad that Dean was able to be there, at least. "Listen, boys… I have a surprise for you." Both boys looked at their dad like they'd never seen him before. John wasn't usually one for surprises.

"What is it, Daddy?" Sam asked, once more clinging onto the man's side. John reached down and picked him up again, taking in the scent that was purely freshly bathed Sam.

"I said it's a surprise, Sammy."

"When can we have it?!"

Dean just stood there and watched his dad and brother. He, too, was excited for the surprise, but he didn't want to look like a little kid. Whatever it was, he figured it was more of something that Sam would like, anyway. That's usually how it turned out. The last surprise their dad had gotten them was a trip to a history museum. He'd received free tickets to the place after ridding it of an annoying ghost. Sam loved the museum, but Dean found it kind of boring. He figured this time would be something of the same.

"Okay, here's the deal. The surprise is for tomorrow night….. If you boys can behave yourself between now and tomorrow night, do all your training without fighting, and get your chores done. Think you can handle that?"

"Yes, sir," Dean and Sam answered at the same time.

John eyed the bowls of spaghettios that were growing cold with each passing second. "What do you say you boys get dressed and we'll go out and get some real food…."

"Yay!" Sam scrambled down and ran towards the bedroom he was sharing with Dean. Dean followed closely behind him, eager to get a decent meal for a change, as well.

* * *

The next day was spent with both Sam and Dean trying to be on their best behavior. An occasional squabble broke out here and there, but one look in their dad's direction had them stopping immediately. Neither one of them wanted to be the one to screw up whatever surprise their dad had planned for them.

At four o'clock, John told them to put their shoes on and grab their jackets. Sam and Dean were brimming with excitement and Dean didn't even complain when John sent him into the bathroom to comb his hair. Once they were loaded up into the car, John took them to a nearby pizza place.

"Where are we going, Daddy?" Sam asked with his mouth full of pizza. "Is this the surprise?"

John laughed at the glob of pizza sauce stuck to Sam's cheek. Dean quickly grabbed a napkin and wiped it off. "No, this isn't the surprise, Sam. We have to drive about a eighty miles to get there."

Sam and Dean settled back into the booth, enjoying the rare treat of fresh, hot pizza. Even if that would have been the whole surprise, they would have been okay with it.

Once they were done eating, John loaded them back up into the Impala and drove west. They hit a little bit of a traffic jam at one point, leading to John muttering some choice words and Sam and Dean giggling in the back seat. Eventually, though, they arrived.

After John circled the large building several times, trying to find a parking spot, they finally climbed out of the Impala. John ordered Dean to hold onto Sam's hand as they made their way into a throng of people. Dean made sure to stay as close to his dad as he possibly could, too.

As they made their way into the building, the boys' excitement grew. Dean was starting to get a sense of what they were doing and he could barely contain himself. Sam still didn't really have a clue, but he was picking up on his brother's excitement.

"Dad? What is this?" Dean finally asked, slightly breathless in his awe.

"I know it's not WWF, Dean, but I figured you wouldn't mind. This is called Top Notch Wrestling and they have some pretty good wrestlers. I thought you'd probably like it good enough."

Dean's face split open with a smile that John hadn't seen in a long time. "It's a wrestling match? Really?"

John laughed. "I take it you like the surprise then?"

"I love it, Dad! Thank you!" Dean surged forward and threw himself at his father in a rare demonstration of child-like emotion. John soaked up the moment, knowing how few and far between they'd become in the last few years.

"What do you say we go find our seats? And then maybe I'll get us some snacks."

Dean and Sam eagerly followed their dad through the crowd. John kept looking down at his boys, hoping to etch the sight of their happy faces into his memory. It wasn't often he was able to make his sons genuinely happy and he was thankful for the opportunity.

* * *

Dean was pretty sure he'd never had so much fun in his life. Their seats weren't the greatest, but he didn't care. He could see the ring just fine and he made sure that Sam had an unobstructed view, too. They took in the sights and sounds of the event and enjoyed the sodas, peanuts, and cotton candy their dad bought for them. All in all, it was a great night.

By the time they left the arena, Sam was asleep in John's arms and Dean was barely able to keep up with the man as they wormed their way through the crowd. Once they were in the Impala, Dean curled up on the seat next to Sam, still smiling the biggest smile.

"What did you think, Dean? Did you like it?"

"It was great, Dad!" he answered with a yawn.

"I know it wasn't as good as WWF….."

"It was way better than WWF, Dad. Did you see the way Gunner Lawless did that move of his? I don't think even Ultimate Warrior could get out of that one."

"What about Larry "The Hangman" Lee? He was pretty awesome, right? I bet he could take Lawless in a match."

"No way! Gunner Lawless is the best!"

John laughed at his son's enthusiasm. He watched as Dean yawned again. "Dean, why don't you try to get some sleep? I'll wake you when we get home." He watched as Dean closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the seat. He'd just turned on the radio, when he heard a soft voice from the back seat.

"Dad? Thanks for tonight. It was the best night ever."

Dean's eyes were already closed again when John answered. "You're welcome, son."

* * *

Author's note: Boy oh boy, I thought for sure I'd finish this with this chapter. Guess that didn't happen, lol. I really am thinking that the next chapter should finish it all up, so I hope you stick with me through to the end.

Thanks so much for reading and reviewing. I tried to stick as close to canon as possible and I think my timeline is okay, but no promises. There really isn't much info other than the few things Dean said in Season 11, episode 15 Beyond the Mat and I really don't know a lot about wrestling back in 1989. Any mistakes are courtesy of Wikipedia, lol. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the chapter.


	3. Chapter 3

Breaking and Entering: A Dean Winchester Story

Chapter 3

To Dean's great delight, John took them to several more wrestling events over the next few months. Dean was pretty sure that nothing would ever compare to the awesomeness of these events. In his ten years of life- or at least the last six years of said life- there had been very little "fun" involved. Most of the fun he'd shared with his brother had been when they'd spent time at Bobby's or Pastor Jim's, since both men made it a point to treat them like the children they were as much as they could.

John Winchester usually didn't have time for things like playing catch or carving pumpkins or putting up Christmas trees. He made sure that any extra time they had was spent on training and cleaning weapons and researching. He didn't put much stock in their education, either. In fact, Dean was pretty sure that if it wasn't for the threat of the authorities getting involved, his dad wouldn't care whether or not they even went to school.

He didn't really care about bad grades, either, unless those grades led to a requested parent/teacher meeting. Then he cared.

They were at their third Top Notch wrestling event in a town somewhere in Ohio when Dean first learned about the upcoming Pay-Per-View event. The way they hyped up the match between Gunner Lawless and the Tower of Power made every boy in that arena immediately start begging their dads to let them watch it. Sam and Dean were no different, but unfortunately their dad wasn't like other dads.

"Please, Dad," Dean begged, nudging his little brother in an attempt to get him to bring out the patented Sam Winchester puppy dog eyes. Sam added a just as animated "Please, Daddy," too.

"Boys, I don't even know where we'll be by then, so the answer is no."

Dean knew it was in his best interest to drop the subject before his dad got mad, but we was in no way giving up on it. Over the next few weeks, he and Sam took turns bringing the subject up whenever their dad seemed to be in a good mood. And every single time they were told the same thing…. "The answer is no."

It wasn't until two days before the event that John had finally had enough. He was getting ready to leave on a routine salt and burn when Dean asked one last time. They were staying in a motel that actually had cable, so it was just a matter of ordering the pay-per-view. Dean knew that his dad would think it was an unnecessary cost, but he had a plan.

John was sitting at the small table in the little kitchenette, filling shotgun shells with salt. He wasn't really in a good mood, but Dean knew he couldn't wait any longer. Stepping up to the table, Dean pulled out a wad of dollars and some change and placed it on the table.

John looked up from the table. "What's this?" he asked as he pointed to the money on the table.

Dean shuffled his feet and looked nervously at his dad. "It's, um….. I've been saving some money and I, uh…. I thought we could use it to… um, you know…. Watch the cage match on pay-per-view." He noticed how his dad's face seemed to darken and he was suddenly even more nervous.

"Where did you get the money?" When Dean didn't answer right away, his face darkened even more. "Dean? Where did the money come from?"

"Um… Uncle Bobby gave me and Sammy some money the last time we were there after we helped him clean out his shed. I saved some of it and I saved the rest from….." Dean hesitated, knowing that his dad probably wasn't going to be happy with what he said next.

"Where did the rest of it come from?"

"I saved some of the money I didn't use for lunch at school."

"You've been skipping lunch at school?" John thundered, knocking over several of the shotgun shells he'd been working on. "Dean, when I give you lunch money, I expect you to use it to buy lunch for you and Sam."

"I did, Dad. I swear," Dean rushed to answer. "I just saved some of the money instead of using it to buy milk. For me. Sammy always gets milk, but I usually just drink water."

"You should be drinking milk, too." John picked up the knocked over shells and started working on filling them again.

"Yes, sir." After another awkward pause, Dean decided to continue. "So, can we?"

"Can we what?"

"Can we watch the cage match? It's on Friday night. And it's Gunner Lawless against the Tower of Power, Dad. It' gonna be an awesome match."

"I'm pretty sure I've already said no to that multiple times, Dean. And I'm tired of talking about it."

"Please, Dad? I'll even make sure to do some more chores the next time we go to Uncle Bobby's and I'll repay you. Please?"

"I said no. It's a waste of money."

Dean knew it was over, so he picked up the money on the table and shoved it back into his pocket before moving over to the bed he was sharing with his brother. He couldn't help but be angry at his dad and at the complete unfairness of his life.

All of the boys in Dean's class were talking about the upcoming cage match, making plans to watch it. Dean hadn't really made any friends yet, so he was mostly left out of the conversations around him and feeling even sorrier for himself than usual.

During the last part of the day, the class had been divided up into groups of two, and Dean suddenly found himself sitting at a table with a boy named Darren, working on a project. Darren was one of the nicer guys in the class and Dean found it easy to talk to the kid. As they worked on the project, they talked about different things, and eventually the cage match came up.

"Who do you think is gonna win? Gunner Lawless or Tower of Power." Darren asked Dean.

"No contest," Dean laughed. "Gunner Lawless is gonna sweep the floor with Tower of Power."

"No way, dude. Tower of Power is definitely going to win. Are you gonna watch the match?"

"Nah…. We can't get pay-per-view where I live."

"That sucks. Maybe you can come over and watch it with me," Darren offered.

"Really?"

"Yeah, my dad and brother are huge Gunner Lawless fans, so you'll fit right in. I'll ask my mom as soon as I get home, okay?"

Dean quickly gave Darren his phone number and asked him where he lived. His heart fell a little when he found out that Darren lived clear across town.

By the time they got home from school on that day, Sam had all but forgotten about the cage match. For the first time in a long time, he'd been invited to a birthday party and had actually been given permission to go to it. They'd been in that particular town for three weeks already and John had been working in a small garage as a mechanic. The owner of the garage had a son that was the same age as Sam and John felt comfortable letting his youngest go to the party.

He didn't feel comfortable letting Dean go to Darren's house, however.

"I don't know anything about this kid, Dean. Or his family."

"He's really nice, Dad. And he said his mom was really excited to have me over. He said she's making dinner and everything."

"I'm sorry, Dean, but no."

"That's not fair, Dad. Sam gets to go to his party."

"That's different. I know where he's going and I've already checked it out to make sure it's safe. I'm not going to let you just go over to some stranger's house without protection."

"I can protect myself, Dad. You _know_ I can."

"I said no, Dean."

"So, I'm just gonna stay here by myself tonight? That's not fair."

"You've stayed by yourself before. And it'll only be for three to four hours. I should be home by eleven. No later than midnight for sure."

After dropping Sam off at his birthday party, John headed out to do another salt and burn, leaving Dean to stay in the motel by himself. It wasn't very often that he found himself alone and he really didn't know what to do. At first, he just turned on the television and surfed the channels, hoping to find something good to watch. He finally settled on a western that he'd probably already seen at least five times.

He was just about ready to fall asleep when a commercial came on for the Top Notch Wrestling cage match. Dean felt a flare of anger shoot through him and his frustration with his dad came rushing back in. _The man was so stubborn and so impossible and so frustrating._ As he continued to contemplate just how frustrated he was with his dad, Dean suddenly made up his mind to do something.

Putting his shoes on, he quickly grabbed his jacket, grabbed the room key, and walked out the door.

After walking almost three miles, Dean realized two things… First, it was already almost time for the cage match to start. And second….. he was never going to make it to Darren's house in time. In fact, he really didn't even know where exactly Darren lived.

Throwing his hands up in frustration, Dean moved over to the curb and sat down. He was feeling particularly sorry for himself as he looked around the neighborhood he was in. He was tired and had a little bit of a headache. And he suddenly realized that he was really, really hungry.

Looking down at his watch, he saw that the match was starting in less than twenty minutes. He was just about to turn around and head back to the motel room when he noticed the dark house right in front of him. What he actually noticed was the small pile of newspapers that were piled up on the porch, indicating that the homeowners had more than likely been gone for a few days, and the cable box that was on the side of the house. As an idea started to form in his mind, he looked around and stepped towards the house when he realized no one was watching.

Walking up onto the porch, Dean looked through the window into the dark house. He could tell that no one was inside. Looking around once again, Dean turned and made his way into the back yard and to the back door. He was glad he'd thought to grab his jacket because the lock pick set his dad had given him for his birthday was in the front pocket.

Pulling the set out, Dean quickly went to work picking the lock. He hadn't really had much practice, but it still only took him two minutes to unlock the door. Once the door was open, he took one more look around and then slipped inside.

His gut was churning, both from hunger and from the guilt he was feeling at breaking into someone's house. Taking a flash light out of his pocket, he turned it on and made his way through the house, looking for the living room. He looked around as he went, surprised to see how nice the house was. The floors were a dark hardwood, but there were thick white rugs scattered throughout the house. Dean felt bad that he didn't take his shoes off before walking in.

Eventually, he found his way to the living room. He was surprised to see the big television in the corner. He'd never watched TV on a screen so big. In fact, he didn't even know they made screens that big. Looking around, he quickly found the remote to the television. He studied it for a few seconds before he figured out how to use it. Seconds later, the television came to life, filling the dark room with light and sound. Dean quickly turned the volume down.

It took him a few more minutes to figure out how to work the television and a few more to figure out what channel he needed on to be able to order the pay-per-view. When he finally found it, he sat there for several minutes, thinking about what he was about to do. He knew that he was breaking all kinds of rules and laws, and he knew that if he were smart, he'd just turn around and walk out of the house. _But he really, really wanted to watch the match. _

Making up his mind, he pressed the button on the remote, thanking whoever might be watching from above that it was just as easy as that.

After watching several of the smaller cage matches, Dean couldn't ignore the fact that he was hungry. His head was still hurting and he felt sick to his stomach. He knew that it was in part to the fact that he hadn't eaten much all day. With the Gunner Lawless cage match coming up in just a few minutes, Dean made his way into the kitchen, deciding that since he was already basically stealing from whoever owned the house, he might as well get something to eat. Before he threw up everywhere.

Opening up the refrigerator, his attention quickly fell to the box of pizza sitting on the bottom shelf. He kept his fingers crossed that it would be a normal pizza and not some fancy kind with vegetables and anchovies. He smiled when he realized that it was just a plain pepperoni pizza.

Grabbing a paper towel from the counter, he quickly grabbed two slices of the pizza and a can of coke. He was just about to head back into the living room when he suddenly put the pizza down on the counter. With his free hand, he dug into his pocket and pulled out the money he'd tried to give to his dad, laying it down on the counter. He figured that the least he could do was leave the money behind for the homeowners. All $13. 53 of it. Not wasting any time, he made his way back into the living room, just in time for the match to start.

And what a match it was. The whole thing lasted no more than fifteen minutes, but Dean was so caught up in it that he had no idea how much time had passed. As he watched, he kept finding himself sitting on the edge of the seat, his body tense and excited. Every so often, the excitement of the match had him jumping to his feet, yelling at the television. He had never been so excited about a wrestling match before. And then he'd never been so mad at a wrestling match either.

Gunner Lawless was robbed. Dean couldn't believe that the Tower of Power won the match and he was convinced that there was something suspicious going on. In his ten-year-old mind, there was no way that Gunner Lawless could lose to such an inferior wrestler.

After giving himself a few minutes to recover, he finally turned the television off and made his way back to the kitchen. He threw the paper towel and the empty can of coke in the trash and then decided that he should probably use the bathroom before making the trip back to the motel.

He had just turned towards the bathroom when the front door opened and a man and woman walked into the house.

Dean froze in his steps, trying to figure out what the best plan of escape was for him. If he walked towards the back door, he would have to walk right past an open doorway to the living room. If he stayed where he was, one of them would undoubtedly come into the kitchen eventually. He could hide and wait for them to go to bed or something, but he had no idea how long that would take.

As he thought through his options, matters were taken out of his hand. The woman walked into the kitchen and his attempt to hide on the other side of the counter quickly became pointless.

"What are you doing here?" the lady yelled. "Jim! Come here!"

Dean stood up straight, his legs shaking and threatening to buckle. He suddenly felt like he was going to throw up the pizza and coke he'd had and he hoped that if he did, he'd be able to make it into the trash. Or at least into the sink.

He continued to watch the lady in front of him, his eyes never leaving her face as he tried to figure out what she was going to do. He didn't have to wait long because just seconds later, a rather big and tall man entered the kitchen.

"What the hell are you doing in my house?" the man yelled, his face reddened in anger. Dean took several steps backwards as the man stepped towards him. He wasn't fast enough, though, because the man suddenly reached out and grabbed his arm. "Beth, call 9-1-1."

Dean's heart sped up at the thought of the cops being called. "Please! Don't call the police!" He figured it was pointless to beg, but he didn't really have anything to lose.

The man pulled Dean towards him, making him knock his hip into the counter along the way. Dean's loud "ow" didn't deter the man from continuing to pull on his arm. "Beth, get the phone."

"Jim, maybe that's not really necessary…"

"This kid broke into our house, Beth. There's no telling what he was planning on doing. He was probably going to rob us blind."

"I wasn't. I swear!"

Dean watched as the woman stepped over to the wall and picked up the phone. He tried to listen to what she was saying, but the man demanded his attention. "I asked what you were doing in our house," he repeated, his grip on Dean's arm tightening in the process.

Dean tried to pull away, but the man was too strong. And he could tell that the man was growing angrier by the second. Realizing that he was at a crossroad- he could either answer the man's question or he could try to make a run for it- Dean made a decision. Before the man could say or do anything else, Dean pulled his foot back and let it fly, landing it directly on the man's shin. The man immediately let go of Dean's arm, his hands flying to the injured shin as various curse words flew out of his mouth.

"Damn it!" The man jumped forward, grabbing for Dean's arm again, but the boy was too fast for him. Unfortunately, the man knew his own house better than Dean did and he took a shortcut, cutting Dean off before he could make it to the door. Before Dean even knew what happened, the man had grabbed his arm again, but this time, he held Dean at a distance.

The woman hung up the phone and turned to face them. "The police are on their way," she said, looking Dean over softly. "Jim, why don't we all have a seat at the table until they get here?"

Jim turned and moved towards the table, practically frog-marching Dean over to a chair. Dean stumbled at one point, but the man's grip on his arm kept him from falling. Before he knew it, Dean found himself sitting at the table, staring a two strangers. He wished that he could take everything back, that he could go back to when he was sitting on the bed, watching an old western.

When he saw the flashing lights of the police car pull up into the driveway, he wished that he'd never heard of Gunner Lawless or Top Notch Wrestling in the first place.

Author's note: Dang it! Again, I thought I was going to finish this story with this chapter, but it didn't happen. I'm pretty certain that the next chapter will be the last, but no promises, lol. This one proved to be a little harder than I thought.

Thanks for reading and reviewing. I hope you all had a blessed 2019 and will have an even more blessed 2020.


	4. Chapter 4

Breaking and Entering: A Dean Winchester Story

Chapter 4

* * *

Dean's stomach was churning and he broke out into a cold sweat as he waited for the policeman to talk to him. At the moment, Jim was talking to the officer, while Beth sat at the table with him, watching him closely with a sad look on her face. He figured that she'd undoubtedly taken in the sight of his too short jeans, holey shoes, and stained t-shirt. And she obviously had already made up her mind that he was a sad little charity case that needed her help.

His suspicions were confirmed when just seconds later she got up from the table and went over to the refrigerator. "I bet you're hungry. How about if I make you a snack?"

"No, thank you," he answered. He didn't want to tell her that he was just seconds away from throwing up the pizza and coke he'd taken from them.

Beth nervously sat back down at the table, eyeing him softly. They both listened to the conversation coming from the living room and Dean couldn't keep from shifting nervously in his seat.

"Hey, it'll be okay, dear." Beth reached out and squeezed Dean's hand, noticing how he was trembling. "What's your name, sweetie?"

Dean thought about lying to her, but knew there really wasn't any reason for it. "Dean…" he answered quietly.

"Dean…. Can you tell me why you broke into our house?"

Beth was looking at him so kindly that it made Dean feel even worse than he already did. Again, he really wished that he could rewind and go back to the moment he decided to leave the motel room. Before he could answer her, Jim and the policeman came into the kitchen. Dean felt like he was going to throw up again.

The policeman stepped forward and sat down in a chair across the table from Dean. "I'm Officer Thomas. What's your name, son?"

Dean stared down at his hands as he answered. "Dean, sir?"

"And your last name?"

Dean struggled to remember what name they were using at the moment, his nerves making it hard to remember. After a long pause, he finally was able to supply an answer. "Dean Miller, sir."

"How old are you, Dean?"

Dean still couldn't bring himself to look up at the officer and he couldn't help but think that his dad would be mad about that. "I'm ten."

"Ten…. Where do you live, Dean?"

"Um… we don't really live here, sir. We're staying in a motel. My, um…. my dad got a temporary job here, but we're probably only staying for a few weeks."

"Okay. Well, where is your dad right now? And your mom?"

"My dad's at work."

"And where does your dad work, Dean?"

Dean's mind scrambled to find a way to answer the man. He couldn't very well tell him that his dad was out on a salt and burn job. And he couldn't really say he was at the garage because it would be too easy to check that fact out. "He works at Chester's Garage, but he's not there right now."

Jim seemed to be getting annoyed that it was taking so long to get answers. He looked like he was about to say something to that effect, but Dean noticed Beth whisper something to him. Dean turned his attention back to the officer as he remembered what his dad had taught him- it's better to give the least amount of answers you can get away with in a situation like this. Dean wasn't about to volunteer any more information than he absolutely had to.

"Okay, then, where is he?"

"I don't know, sir. He said something about driving to the next town to pick up a part or something."

"What about your mom, Dean? Does she know where you are?"

Dean looked up at the officer and then quickly looked away. He hated talking about his mom to anyone, especially when he had to explain why she was gone. "My mom…. She's dead, sir." He hated the way his voice always shook when he said those words.

"So your dad left you alone?"

Dean suddenly realized his mistake and searched frantically for a way to fix it. "No, sir. He, um….. he left me with a babysitter."

"Okay. So how did you come to be in Mr. and Mrs. McKay's home?"

Dean shrank down further in the chair, wishing that he could disappear. He knew he had to answer the man, but it was the very last thing he wanted to do. _Well, that was a lie, because the absolute last thing he wanted to do was face his father._

"I, uh…. the babysitter… she, um… she fell asleep and I snuck out. I was going to go to my friend's house, but after I walked for a while, I realized that it was too far away. I stopped right in front of this house."

"So, you thought that maybe someone in this house could help you get to your friend's house? Or get back home?" When Dean didn't answer, Officer Thomas continued. "How did you get into the house, Dean? Mr. McKay swears that the doors were locked."

Dean suddenly felt the weight of the lock picks in his pocket. He knew better than to confess to picking the lock, knowing that would raise too many suspicions as to how a kid his age even knew how to do that. "The back door wasn't locked."

Jim stood up angrily and started pacing the floor. "I'm a hundred percent sure I locked that damn door," he growled. Officer Thomas gave the man a look and seconds later, he sat back down at the table.

"It wasn't," Dean lied.

The policeman looked down at his watch before continuing. "You still haven't answered why you came into the house, Dean. Were you scared? Looking for help?"

"No, sir." Dean suddenly felt his earlier need to go to the bathroom resurface and he started squirming in his seat again. After a few seconds of that, he looked up at Beth McKay. "Can I use the bathroom?" he asked nervously.

Beth immediately stood up and reached for his hand. Dean took her hand in his own and allowed her to lead him to the bathroom. Once he was finished there, he reluctantly made his way back into the kitchen and sat down, feeling marginally better.

Officer Thomas didn't waste any time in getting back to his questions. "Dean? Why did you break into this house?"

Dean tried to come up with a good reason, but when he couldn't come up with a convincing lie, he decided to just tell the truth. "I, um…. I wanted to watch television," he finally confessed.

"Television? You broke into my house because you wanted to watch television? What kind of stupid excuse is that?!" Jim's voice thundered in the large kitchen.

"Jim, please," Beth begged quietly. "You're scaring him."

"Good! I think the boy needs to be scared, Beth. Who breaks into a house to watch television?!"

Officer Thomas tried to regain control of the situation. "Dean, I'm pretty sure that most motels have TVs nowadays. Why couldn't you just stay there and watch it?"

Dean let out a big sigh and just started blurting out all the reasons for his breaking and entering. He explained about how his dad took him and Sam to the Top Notch wrestling matches and how he and Sam loved Gunner Lawless. He explained about the cage match and how it was only available to watch on Pay-Per-View. And how he'd saved up some money and asked his dad to buy it for them, only to be told no over and over again. He explained how he was invited to go to Darren's house to watch it and how he'd asked his dad, only to be told no again. And then he explained how he'd left the motel room with the intent of walking to Darren's house, only to find that it was too far away. The last thing he explained was how he saw the newspapers on the front porch and the cable box on the side of the house and figured that he would take advantage of an empty house to watch the match.

"You broke in to watch a wrestling match?" Officer Thomas asked incredulously.

"Yes, sir."

Officer Thomas and Beth shared a laugh at that, but Jim was still angry. "That's stealing, boy," he yelled.

Dean shrank back in his chair again. "I'm sorry," he said. "I, um…. I know I shouldn't have done it. I know it's stealing and I'm sorry."

"Sorry isn't enough," Jim bellowed. "You're ten years old and you're already stealing? What the hell kind of father raises his kid to be like that? That's what's wrong with kids nowadays…. they're allowed to get away with everything. Your dad must be worthless."

Dean jumped out of his chair, his fists clenched tightly at his side. "No, he's not!" he yelled.

"Yeah? Well, if you were my son, you wouldn't be sitting comfortably for a week."

Dean blushed at that, knowing that there was a real possibility of that coming true once his dad found out. "My dad's gonna be really mad at me," he finally said. His eyes filled with tears and he was embarrassed when they started to roll down his face. Rubbing his face with both hands, he looked back at Beth. "I-I'm really sorry, Mrs. McKay." Stepping over to the kitchen counter, he grabbed the money he'd left there earlier. Once it was in his hand, he walked over to where Beth was sitting and held it out to her. "I left this for you. I know it's not enough to pay for the cage match, but I wanted you to have it. There's thirteen dollars and fifty-three cents here. And I'll find a way to pay back the rest of it, too. I promise."

"Oh, sweetie…. That's not necessary," Beth said with a smile.

"Like hell, it isn't," Jim interrupted. "The little brat should pay for what he stole."

"Jim McKay, that's enough!" Beth glared at her husband, causing him to stop his tirade. "Dean made a mistake. That's what kids do, right? And I'm fairly sure that he's learned a lesson from all of this. Right, Dean?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Okay, then…. As far as I'm concerned, we're done here."

Dean gave her a little smile and then looked over at the officer. "Am I under arrest, Officer Thomas?"

"No, son. We don't arrest ten-year-olds. But, if Mr. and Mrs. McKay wish to, they can press charges and you'll have to appear in the juvenile court."

Beth McKay spoke up before her husband could. "Of course, we're not going to press charges." Jim looked like he was going to argue, but one look from his wife had him shutting his mouth.

Officer Thomas stood up from the table. "Okay, then…. Dean, I'll take you back to the motel you're staying at and explain everything to your babysitter. And hopefully your dad will be home soon."

Dean shakily turned to follow the officer, but he stopped again, right in front of Beth. "Mrs. McKay? I, um…. I have something else to tell you….."

"What is it, Dean?"

"I, um….. I ate two pieces of your pizza and drank a can of coke. I'm sorry."

Beth stood up and before Dean knew what was happening, she pulled him into a hug. "Oh, sweetie…. That's okay, but thank you for telling me. I appreciate you being honest about it."

Dean allowed himself to relax into her hug. He didn't want to admit it, but he missed being hugged like that. In his life, hugs were few and far between. _Except hugs from Sammy, but they were different._

Eventually, he pulled himself away and looked up at Beth. Without a word, she bent down and kissed him on the top of the head. "Listen, Dean…. I can tell that you're a good boy. You made a mistake tonight, but you're forgiven, okay? I'm sure you're going to be in a little bit of trouble with your daddy, but just remember that you're forgiven. All I ask is that you learn from this, okay?"

"Yes, ma'am." Dean turned away from Beth to head over to where Officer Thomas was waiting, but he stopped in front of Jim. Raising his head up, Dean looked the man directly in the eyes. "I'm really sorry, sir. I know you probably don't forgive me, but I want you to know that."

Without another word, he turned and followed Officer Thomas out the door.

* * *

Dean hadn't ever ridden in a police car before. Any other time, he might have been excited to do so, but his mind was so focused on what was going to happen when his dad found out what he'd done, that he couldn't enjoy it. Officer Thomas knew exactly where the motel was, so it didn't take more than five minutes to get there.

As they pulled up in front of the room they were staying in, Dean tried desperately to figure out what he was going to do. Officer Thomas expected to find a babysitter in the room, but there wasn't one, of course. After getting out of the car and unlocking the motel room door, Dean made his way into the room, calling out for the non-existent babysitter.

Officer Thomas followed him into the motel room, looking around expectantly. He seemed surprised to see that no one was there. "I thought you said your babysitter fell asleep, Dean."

"She did. She must've woke up and found me gone and left to look for me." Dean didn't know if he'd buy that, but it was the best he could come up with.

Officer Thomas looked down at his watch again. His attention was quickly averted by the large yawn that escaped the small boy in front of him. "Dean, it's almost eleven o'clock. Why don't you get ready for bed? It looks like I might be waiting around a while for your dad or the babysitter to come back."

Dean walked over to his duffle and grabbed his sweats and a clean t-shirt. He made his way to the bathroom and got ready for bed. The thought of Officer Thomas staying in the room until his dad came home was a little intimidating, but Dean just dealt with it the best he could.

He wasn't about to climb into bed, though, so he just sat down on the edge of it. He kept his eyes on the floor for the most part, listening as the officer talked into his radio. Just as the man finished calling in to the police station, Dean heard the distinctive growl of the Impala pulling up to the motel. Suddenly, he found it a little hard to breathe.

Before he could even warn Officer Thomas that his dad was there, the door opened. John strode into the room, his eyes focused on the officer and never moving from his face. "Who the hell are you?" he bellowed.

"Mr. Miller, I'm Officer Thomas with the Redfern police department." The man pulled out his badge and held it out for John to see.

"What's going on?" John asked, his eyes finally moving over to find Dean hunched over on the bed. "Dean? Are you okay?"

"Yes, sir," Dean answered immediately.

Officer Thomas put his badge back inside his pocket. "Dean got himself into a little spot of trouble tonight, Mr. Miller."

"John. It's John, not Mr. Miller. What happened?"

"Dean snuck out of the house this evening when your babysitter fell asleep."

"Babysitter?" John looked over at Dean, his tired mind trying to catch up with what his son had apparently told the officer.

"Yes. I think she might have gone off to look for Dean. Do you have a way to call her? Let her know that Dean's alright?"

"Yeah. I'll do that."

Officer Thomas watched as John stepped over to the phone. Dean watched his dad closely, trying to figure out what the man was doing. Just seconds later, he heard his dad explaining to whoever was on the other end that Dean was home, safe and sound. He figured that the man must have called one of Bobby's phone. Or Pastor Jim's.

Once the call was over, John hung up the phone and turned back to the cop and his son. "Will someone please tell me what the hell happened?"

Dean continued to just sit on the edge of the bed as Officer Thomas explained the whole wretched adventure to his dad. He could literally see the man's face turning redder and redder. By the time Officer Thomas was done explaining everything to John, the man was looking angrier that Dean could ever remember him looking.

"Damn it, Dean! What the hell were you thinking?" Dean wondered how rich he'd be if he had a dime for every time his dad had ever said those words to him.

"I-I'm sorry…"

"That doesn't answer my question, Dean! What were you thinking?"

"I just wanted to watch the cage match, Dad," Dean answered pathetically.

"The damn cage match! I'm beginning to regret the day I ever introduced you to that damn wrestling business." John glared at his son for several more long seconds and then turned his attention back to Officer Thomas."

"So, what now?" he asked the man. "Are they pressing charges?"

"Mr. and Mrs. McKay did not want to press charges, Mr. Miller. So, from a legal standpoint, he's all good. The rest is up to you."

After exchanging a few more words, and after offering Dean a goodbye, Officer Thomas turned and left. The second he was gone, Dean wished that he'd come back. Judging by the look on his dad's face, he was in for it and he really, really wasn't up to facing the wrath of John Winchester just yet.

* * *

Author's note: There you go. I'm sorry for the long wait on this chapter. Holidays. That's all I have to say, lol.

Thanks so much for sticking with this little story. I felt like this was a good place to stop, but let me know if you're interested in reading more. I'm sure we can all imagine how John would handle this situation.

Thanks again for reading and reviewing. You guys are amazing.


	5. Chapter 5

Breaking and Entering: A Dean Winchester Story

Chapter 5

* * *

***slight mention of spanking in this chapter***

* * *

The seconds immediately following the departure of Officer Thomas were some of the worst seconds in Dean's young life, notwithstanding the night that his mother died. Dean was very rarely scared of his father, but seeing the look on the man's face at the moment was terrifying.

He was still by the bed, but he'd jumped to his feet the moment the officer had left, knowing that his dad expected him to be standing at attention when he addressed him. John was currently pacing the small room, his face red and his left hand running through his hair over and over again. His right hand was clenched at his side.

Dean didn't know what to do. _Should he apologize? Tell his dad that he was sorry for doing something so stupid? Or should he just keep his mouth shut in an attempt to not make the man even angrier?_

He knew his dad didn't tolerate insincere apologies. And he especially didn't tolerate apologies that only came about because the person apologizing had been caught doing something he shouldn't have done. Dean really _was_ sorry that he had done something so stupid, but if he was being honest, he never would have felt the need to apologize to his dad for disobeying him if he hadn't been caught. Therefore, his apology _would_ be hypocritical. And therefore, he kept his mouth shut.

"What the hell were you thinking, Dean?" John asked again when he stopped right in front of his son. "Do you have any idea what could've happened? What if they had pressed charges? Do you realize what that would've meant? How could you be so stupid?!"

"I'm sorry, Dad," Dean said before he could stop himself.

"Sorry doesn't cut it, Dean. You could've ruined everything." John turned away from Dean and threw a punch into the bathroom door.

Dean stared at the hole in the door and the blood on his dad's knuckles in shock. He'd never seen his dad so mad at him before and he couldn't stop the tears that started flowing down his face. "I'm sorry," he said again. "I'm sorry."

John looked over at his son, surprised to see the fear on his face. He knew that both of his boys hated to be in trouble and that they had a healthy fear of the punishment he usually dealt out. But he'd never seen such a blatant look of terror on either of his boys' faces and it broke his heart. He didn't mean to lose his temper in such a way, but he'd been so scared when he walked in to find Officer Thomas with his son. Since Mary had died, John had had numerous nightmares of awful things happening to his sons. The majority of these nightmares were of him failing on a hunt and whatever monster he was hunting finding and killing his sons. Most of the other nightmares revolved around Child Protective Services finding Sam and Dean unattended and taking them away from him. Both types of nightmares left him shaking in fear and that fear was almost realized after the stunt Dean pulled.

If John wasn't so traumatized by the near miss, he might've found some humor in the whole situation. He might've been proud of the ingenuity of his son and of the way the boy had effortlessly picked the back door lock. He could've been proud of the way the boy made up the story of the babysitter falling asleep on the fly. If anything, he could've been proud of the way the boy had handled himself when faced with an angry homeowner and a small town police officer.

Looking down at the small form in front of him, John felt another surge of anger. This time it wasn't only aimed at his son, though. This time he felt a little bit of anger at himself. _Why did he have to be such a hard-ass? Why couldn't he have just let the boy watch the damn cage match? _Dean didn't ask for too much, too often, and anytime he _did _ask for anything, it was usually something for Sam. For once, the boy had actually asked for something _he_ wanted and John had shot him down. Over and over again.

Suddenly, he felt like the worst father in the whole world. He knew he needed to talk to the boy about everything and he knew he needed to punish him, but he didn't have the strength to deal with any of that at the moment. Instead, he took the easy way out.

"Go to bed, Dean," he finally said. He didn't miss the way Dean's eyes widened at his words. "We'll deal with this in the morning."

"Dad…"

"Go to bed, Dean," John repeated.

Dean looked at his dad a little longer, but then turned and climbed into the bed. With the pending talk and inevitable punishment hanging over his head, he knew he wouldn't be getting much sleep, though. Snuggling down into the bed as much as he could, he listened as his dad walked over to the small kitchenette and grabbed what Dean knew was a bottle of cheap whiskey. The man didn't bother to even grab a glass to put the whiskey in. After a few seconds, he'd made his way over to the small couch sitting in front of the television. To Dean's surprise, his dad didn't turn on the TV. Instead, he just sat in the dark of the room, drinking the whiskey.

Dean stayed awake for almost another hour and when his eyes finally drifted close, John was still sitting in the dark, doing nothing but drinking whiskey and staring into the darkness.

* * *

Morning came much too soon for Dean's liking. He had no idea what time it was when he finally opened his eyes. Normally, Sam would wake up before him and Dean would find him sitting in front of the television in whatever motel they were staying in. He could usually tell what time it was by whatever cartoon his little brother was watching, but without Sam there, he had no idea.

Before pulling himself out from under the covers, he listened to see if he could tell if his dad was home. He didn't hear anything and he didn't smell the customary coffee that his dad brewed as soon as he woke up, so he figured his dad wasn't there. After he finally climbed out of bed, he looked around for the customary note his dad would leave for him. He found it on top of the television.

_Dean,_

_I need to run an errand. I should be home in a few hours. Get your PT done and then get your chores done. I'll bring breakfast back and then we'll talk._

Straight and to the point, just like every other note the man had ever left for him. Dean changed out of his pajamas and into his sweats and t-shirt. He pulled on his running shoes, grabbed the motel key, and headed out the door. An hour later, he let himself back into the motel. He'd ran almost three miles and did his required push-ups, sit-ups, and jumping jacks and now was in desperate need of a shower. Once that was done, he brushed his teeth and set about doing his "chores."

Depending on where they were living at the moment, Dean's chores could take him anywhere from ten minutes to an hour. Living in motel room meant that there was very little for him to do. He made up his bed, noticing that the other bed hadn't been slept in at all. He washed up the few dishes that were in the small kitchen sink and he picked up his wet towel, hanging it up on the towel bar next to the shower. Once he was done with all that, he poured himself a glass of water and sat down on the couch.

The morning exercise and taking care of his chores had kept his mind off of what was going to happen once his dad got home. Unfortunately, with all that done, there was nothing to stop him from thinking about it all. He knew his dad was really mad. The fact that he hadn't taken care of it straightaway meant that he was really, really mad. Dean knew that the man tried not to punish them in anger.

He wished that it was all over, though. He didn't want to face his dad's anger or his disappointment. He wished that they could just have a good day, relaxing around the house or doing some weapons training. He wished that Sam was home, too, but then he was also glad that his brother wouldn't be around to witness his comeuppance. Sam hated to watch Dean get punished almost as much as Dean hated to see Sam punished.

He had just turned on the television and found a movie to watch when he heard the Impala pull up to the motel. Seconds later, his dad unlocked the door and moved into the room.

John moved over to the small table and placed a bag down on it. "Breakfast."

Dean turned off the TV and moved over to the table.

"There's a breakfast sandwich in there for you and an extra order of bacon."

Dean pulled the styrofoam container out of the bag and opened it up. The food was somewhat cold, but Dean dug into it anyway. He was pretty hungry since he hadn't eaten anything since the pizza he'd stolen from the McKay's.

John dug into another bag, pulling out a carton of milk. "Here you go. Drink up, since you've been skipping out on your milk at school."

Dean took the carton of milk and opened it up. The milk was warm, but he drank it anyway. John sat down at the table, too, sipping from a large cup of coffee. He kept his eyes trained on his son and Dean soon found himself squirming under his gaze. The cold sandwich kept getting stuck in his throat and the warm milk barely washed it down. After what seemed like forever, he swallowed the last bite of his sandwich and took the last swallow of milk.

And with nothing else left to do, he turned and looked at his dad.

"Did you get your PT done?" John asked.

"Yes, sir."

"Ran three miles and did your calisthenics?"

"Yes, sir."

"And it looks like you got your chores done."

"Yes, sir." Dean felt like a broken record, but he answered the way he knew his dad wanted him to answer.

John looked Dean over, satisfied with the knowledge that the boy had taken a shower like he was told to, as well. With nothing else to do but get down to it, John addressed his son, firmly. "You really messed up yesterday, son. Explain yourself."

"I'm sorry, Dad."

"I don't want your apology, Dean. I want to know what the hell you were thinking. Where were you going when you left the house? Did you know the people whose house you broke into?"

"No, sir. I was…. I was going to walk over to Darren's house. He invited me over to watch the match with him, remember?"

"I remember. I also remember that I told you that you couldn't go over there."

Dean's eyes dropped to the table.

"Eyes up, Dean."

Dean lifted his eyes back up to meet his dad's.

"So you were walking to this Darren kid's house. What happened that had you ending up breaking into someone's house?"

Dean shifted in his chair. He could feel sweat rolling down his back and it tickled. "It was taking too long, I guess. I knew that I wouldn't make it there in time for the start of the match, so I stopped walking. I was just going to come back to the motel, but then I saw the collection of newspapers on the front porch of the house I stopped at."

"And you just decided to break in."

"Yes, sir."

"And then?" John could feel his anger start to rise again, so he tried to calm himself down.

"I, uh…. I looked around to make sure no one was home. And then I picked the lock on the back door."

"How did you pick the lock?"

Dean hesitated, remembering that his dad's rule that he not carry the lock pick set around when he wasn't with him. He knew he had to answer, though. "I used my lock pick set," he finally answered.

"The lock pick set I told you not to carry around? You took it with you?"

"I didn't do it on purpose, Dad. It was still in my jacket pocket from when you were training me." John didn't say anything, so Dean had no choice but to continue. "I left money on the counter for them. I know it wasn't enough, but I did."

"Mrs. McKay said that you were polite and obviously remorseful of your actions. She asked me to go easy on you because you were a delightful boy. Mr. McKay wasn't so nice about it all."

Dean's eyes widened at his dad's words. "You talked to them?"

"I went over there this morning. Wanted to make sure they didn't change their minds about pressing charges. And then I went and spoke to Officer Thomas." John let those words sink in before continuing. "Officer Thomas told me that although they didn't press charges, he still had to write up a report. Luckily, the report will be filed under the name of Dean Miller, not Winchester. Otherwise, there would be a pseudo Breaking and Entering charge filed under your name."

"Sorry…." Dean muttered.

"Dean, what you did could've had huge repercussions. Do you understand that?"

"Yes, sir."

John kept his eyes on Dean for several extremely long seconds. "Mr. McKay thinks that I'm a terrible father," he finally said.

"But, you're not! I told him that, Dad."

"He thinks I'm too lenient. Said that if I was stricter with you, you wouldn't have done anything so stupid. Do you think I'm too lenient, Dean? Is that why you did it?"

"No, sir." Dean wasn't really sure what the word lenient actually meant, but he had an idea. "I told him you were going to be really mad at me," he added.

"You're damn right I'm really mad. I trusted you to do what you were told to do, Dean. When I leave here, I need to be able to trust that you're going to behave yourself and take care of your brother. I need to trust that you'll obey my orders. I need to trust that you'll make good choices. Do you think you made good choices last night?"

"No, sir."

"Good answer. Mr. McKay said that if you were his son, he'd make sure you didn't sit comfortably for a week. Said that I ought to take my belt to you to keep you from being a hooligan."

"Dad…"

John watched as Dean's face paled at his words. "Don't worry. I'm not taking my belt to you, Dean. And I told McKay to keep his opinions to himself, that the way I raised my sons was none of his business. And that you weren't a hooligan.

But you have to be smarter than this, Dean. You _are_ smarter than this. And I expect you to do better. We have too much to lose here, Dean. Too much to throw away like that because you want to watch some stupid cage match or something equally as useless. Understand?"

"Yes, sir." Dean's eyes were once again focused on the table.

John stood up and moved the chair out from the table. He sat back down and looked back at his son. "This can't happen again, son."

Dean nodded, not trusting his voice at the moment.

"Okay, well I guess I need to make sure that you really understand that, don't I? What do you say we get this over with before your brother comes home?" John motioned for Dean and waited for the boy to get up and move over to him. Once Dean was in front of him, John guided him over his lap. He hated having to spank his sons, but he would always do it when it was required.

* * *

By the time John returned with Sam, Dean was feeling better. Being spanked by his dad was never fun, but once it was over it didn't take long for Dean to feel better. He hated being punished, but the good thing about being punished by John Winchester was that once it was done, everything was forgiven. The slate was wiped clean.

Sam ran into the house and straight over to his brother, regaling him with story after story of what they'd done at the sleepover. Dean listened patiently, while John sat at the table with his journal. Every once in a while, John would look over at his boys, smiling softly at the excited look on Sam's face and the indulging look on Dean's.

Once Sam's stories were over, a comfortable silence filled the room. It wasn't long, though, before Sam's whiny six-year-old voice invaded the silence. "I don't want to watch that, Dean. We've seen it a thousand times."

"Too bad," Dean answered as he held the remote out of his brother's reach. "I want to watch it and I have the remote."

The boys continued to argue until finally John had to intervene. "Boys! That's enough!"

Both boys immediately stopped fighting at the sound of John's booming voice. Dean pulled Sam a little closer to him as they turned to face their dad. "Sorry, Dad," he said quietly.

John looked at both boys and made a decision. "What do you say we head out for the afternoon?"

"Yeah!" Sam answered immediately, letting go of Dean's shirt and running over to his dad. "Where are we gonna go, Daddy?"

"I thought we'd go get some lunch and then maybe go over to the local high school. They're apparently having a wrestling tournament today." He noticed that Dean's eyes immediately lit up before a blush completely filled his face.

"Dean loves wrestling!" Sam stated enthusiastically.

"I know, Sammy," John said with a laugh. "Maybe he can explain some of the moves to us. What do you say, Dean? Want to go watch some wrestling? Legally, this time?"

Dean blushed again and Sam looked up at John curiously. "What does that mean? Legly?"

"Legally, Sam. It means to do something that's within the law," John explained, smiling at the still somewhat confused look on his youngest son's face.

"You mean watching _some_ wrestling is against the law?" Sam asked.

"Only when your brother does it." John laughed at the look on both of his boys' faces. "Never mind, Sammy. I'm too hungry to explain it."

John turned towards the door, holding it open for Sam and Dean to walk through. Just as Dean passed by him, he reached up and ruffled his hair. The smile on Dean's face left him feeling lighter than he had in a very long time.

* * *

Author's note: Here you go, folks. I hope you enjoyed the end of this little story. It didn't go quite as I had originally planned, but that's how it usually goes. These characters definitely have a mind of their own.

Thanks so much for reading. I'd love to hear your thoughts on the chapter/story. And let me know if you have any ideas for any future stories.

Take care.


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